Showing posts with label banning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label banning. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 8, 2015

CANTARAM AS COMMENTARY ON GOAN POLITICS



Francis de Tuem has a peculiar voice – a mix of guttural and nasal tones that are not always associated with famous singers. Personally, I thought it was a bit strange that he could be a singer when I first heard some of his songs. But when one listens to his sharp political and social critique one instantly realizes why he is such a runaway hit. Known for his irreverently bold songs, Tuem also displays an acute sense of logical reasoning while singing about Goan politics. Hence, one simply had to find out why his latest tiatr Reporter, is a huge hit.

More than the plot, this tiatr derives most of its strength as a bold performance on stage from the songs sung by Tuem. While the main plot revolves around a journalist Anita, who acts as an ombudsman in a political setup that is riddled with corruption and dishonesty, most of the songs tackle the recent political controversies in Goa and the rest of India head-on such as the ‘ghar wapasi’ issue, or the attacks on Christian institutions, the ban on beef, and so on and so forth. The political cantaram in tiatrs are not simply forms of protests, but are also sincere pleas for a change in the way things function in society. In this context, Tuem’s tiatr and the songs he sings in it are no exception.

Though Tuem’s critique of Goan politics is significantly different, there are areas where this critique displays problems. I would like to discuss this with reference to some of his songs. First and foremost, there is a precise and logical manner in which Tuem crafts his songs. The first song that Tuem sang had a bit about the beef ban controversy. That Tuem is no ordinary composer and singer of political songs was proven by his bold reference to a seminal paper that Dr. B. R. Ambedkar wrote on the beef-eating food habits of brahmins in the Vedic times. Such a reference is reassuring as the intellectual stream from which Tuem relies on for mounting a critique of Goan politics is based on a solid premise – one that is firmly lodged within anti-caste struggles of South Asia.

Another important issue that was highlighted through the songs was the controversy of ‘ghar wapasi’. Through the ritual of ‘ghar wapasi’ Hindu-groups have sought to convert Christian, Muslim, and Dalit groups to Hinduism. In his songs, Tuem makes two crucial statements. The first is related to the manner in which the caste hierarchy operates within Hindu temples, which has continued to exclude the so-called ‘lower-caste’ from equal access to temples. Hence, Tuem counter argues, that assuming Christians (or other groups) convert back into Hinduism, what is the guarantee that such ‘re-converts’ will be allowed equal access to Hindu temples?

The second important point that he makes in relation to the ‘ghar wapasi’ episode is regarding the so-called ‘forced conversions’. For those who have been reading and listening about the ‘ghar wapasi’ controversy over the last few months, one of the reasons cited in favor of ‘ghar wapasi’ was that all conversions to Christianity and Islam were ‘forced’, thus justifying this so-called ‘homecoming’. But Tuem’s sensitive and critical understanding of Goan history allows him to make a crucial distinction between those who converted in the sixteenth- and seventeenth-centuries and the Christians in Goa today. Tuem makes the argument that while one of his ancestors had converted, all the generations down the line cannot be termed as ‘converts’. This is true for a lot of Goan Christians today. Though this seems to be a simple and common-sensical point, it escapes so many of us in Goa and India – that today’s Catholics are born into the religion and therefore cannot be termed as converts.

But the cherry on the cake came in the form of Tuem’s bold assertion wherein he forcefully asserted that if he is a Christian today it is solely due to his own wish and devotion. This, we can suggest is a logical culmination for all those who recognize that all conversions were not ‘forced’ and that there is an element of caste that always plays a part in conversion movements whether in Goa or elsewhere. While the many Hindu groups were busy in trying to convince the nation that converts had no agency and mind of their own, Tuem’s assertion allows us to see that this is not the case. In fact, through this song Tuem can be said to create a language through which minoritized groups can respond to attempts at appropriating their histories.

The sense that one gets from the songs and the plot of Reporter is that individual honesty and sincerity is projected as the panacea for all ills. Emphasis is also placed on institutions like the media who act as whistleblowers and guardians of the truth in a similar context. However, one needs to be a bit circumspect about arguments and visions that place the onus and responsibility of smooth and efficient functioning of politics and governance on a few individuals and institutions. What this ultimately means is that power to decide the fates of others have to be concentrated in the hands of a few, and this indeed can be detrimental to democracy. But this is not how it is supposed to be. Power needs to be shared as equitably as possible with all constituent elements in a polity.

The faith and trust reposed in a few individuals and institutions is a problem in Reporter, and calls for careful re-thinking. That aside, while Tuem should rightly revel in the success of his tiatr and his cantaram, it is also time to recognize that the very structure and form of the Goan tiatr allows a certain empowerment of the Goan people. The structure and form of the tiatr not only allows space for political dissent, but in its core is highly politicized. Hence, if articulated properly, tiatr and its cantaram are effective forms of sharp political and social commentary.

(First published in  O Heraldo, dt: 8 July, 2015)

Monday, December 26, 2011

RAMAYANAS, RAMANUJAN AND ENGROSSING NARRATIVES


Succumbing to political pressures for allegedly hurting religious sentiments, the Delhi University scrapped an essay by A. K. Ramanujan from its undergraduate history syllabus a month or so ago. This move sparked widespread protests not only from Universities in Delhi, but also elsewhere. The essay in question was titled Three Hundred Ramayanas: Five Examples andThree Thoughts on Translation. As the title suggests Ramanujan discusses the various versions of the Ramayana, which he likes to call ‘tellings’, as well as the issues that crop up when this particular text is translated so many times.
             Ramanujan was a versatile scholar, donning the hat of author, poet, translator and folklorist. Initially teaching at the Maharaja Sayajirao University of Baroda for eight years, he later moved to the U. S. 
 The whole trend and culture of banning/censoring books, film, paintings etc. that we witness in India – of which the Ramanujan fiasco is only the latest – has demonstrated how the precarious condition of the ideal of Free Speech is standing on shaky ground and also a gloomy future is facing not only the students of history (like my self) but to the whole country at large. The reason why I am deeply disturbed after the fiasco at Delhi University is because an attempt is being made to suppress the many voices of history, which in a way implies that there is only one possible way to interpret history in the world.
            The news of the removal of the essay made me curious andurged me to explore the nature and content of the essay as well the politics ofbanning/censoring. I was skeptical whether I could locate a digital copy on the internet. But as luck had it, I could find it very easily. Talk about asking a child not to play with fire!  In this essay, easily downloadable via the internet, Ramanujan tries “...to sort out for myself, and hope for others, how these hundreds of tellings of a story in different cultures, languages and religious traditions relate to each other: what gets translated, transplanted and transposed (italics mine).” Ramanujan prefers the term ‘tellings’ because in his opinion there is no such thing as an original Ramayana and the use of terms like ‘versions’ and ‘variants’ imply that there is an original text from which all subsequent texts emanated.
            Kumkum Roy, a historian of Ancient India at the Jawarharlal Nehru University, writing for the Economic and Political Weekly says that “Ramanujan is an engrossing writer, drawing attention to a range of narratives related to the epic from Sanskrit to Kannada and Thai. Most importantly, he uses the different tellings of the Rama story as cultural artifacts that shape and are in turn shaped by our daily existence. Why then should young adult learners be prevented from learning about them?”
             Ramanujan’s mastery over words as well as the subject over which he is elaborating, draws the reader immediately into the text. For instance, citing the example of Jain traditions, Ramanujan says, “When we enter the world of Jain tellings, the Rama story no longer carries Hindu values. Indeed the Jain text expresses the feeling that the Hindus, especially the brahmans, have maligned Ravana, made him into a villain.” When the Jains tell the Rama story therefore, Ravana comes off as a tragic hero, moving us to sympathy.
            At this point it would be worthwhile to recall the animated movie Sita Sings the Blues. In this film, the narrative of Ramayana is woven with the personal story of Nina Paley, the artist who made the film (which can be downloaded for free). Like the unfortunately fateful essay of Ramanujan, Nina Paley’s delightful movie too had the spectre of ‘banning’ hanging over its head initiated by radical Hindu groups.
            One thing that would strike anybody who has or will watch the movie is the brilliant animation to the accompaniment of jazz music. Like Ramanujan’s essay, this film too, engrosses the viewer in its narrative. What was striking about this film was the depth with which it interrogated the actions of the characters in the Ramayana. Questions that have no easy answers, not because they are entrenched in some profound and deep metaphysics, but simply because the contemporary political ramifications can be ugly. It was the only movie (as far as I know), where, at the end of the credits a list of recommended readings scrolled up one’s screen!
          Kumkum Roy gets it right when she says, “If anything, young adult learners (the average undergraduate students) need to be encouraged to understand and appreciate these differences rather than be prevented from learning about them. The dangers of suppressing the text in particular and the implications of a policy of suppression of dissent in general are far more threatening than any comments Ramanujan makes about Indra and Hanuman.”
            If the sole intention of banning the essay was to make students – particularly of the arts – read, then kudos to the fundamentalists! But clearly this is not the issue. The issue is about control. What is sickening is to note that, not only is an attempt made to control what we do or say, but also what and how we ‘think’. For the control of the mind is the easiest way to subjugate the masses. We can’t allow ourselves to be passive dupes who would accept anything that dominant ideologues and groups tell us to believe.

(A version of this article appeared on Gomantak Times, dt: December 27, 2011)